Am I So Vain I Think That Song is About Me?

Maybe I’m wrong, but I think people who know me would agree that I’m not a vain person. I “get ready” once a day (which consists of lip color, blush, and sometimes minimal eye-liner), and I rarely look in another mirror all day long. I rarely even do my hair. I usually let it dry on the way to work and put it up in a ponytail by 8:30. After an hour or so I eventually loop it around into what my friend refers to as a “mom bun” to keep it off my neck. Another friend recently threatened to style my hair while I worked at my desk one day. (Notice my subconscious chose the word “threatened.”) No. As I’ve stated before, I have a very low bullshit tolerance; therefore, I have no interest in getting all fussy with my appearance. I’m quite happy with things the way they are except for one thing… My hair is turning grey. More like silver. White, even. WHY DOES THIS BOTHER ME SO MUCH?

Through no fault of his own, my youngest son has brought a considerable amount of stress to our lives. Since having him, my physical appearance has aged dramatically. Part of it is that I’m nearing 40 and the body naturally changes, but I know the lack of sleep and stress have aeccelerated my aging process. Oddly, I don’t really mind the changes in my skin or my eyes. But I curse the coarse white and silver hairs that sprout overnight, sticking straight up in the morning like little flags proclaiming my battle scars for all to see. (Shut up and lay down, you little bastards!) I yank out the really wild ones with tweezers, so at this rate I’m going to go bald before I go totally grey.

“So color it,” many have said. But I have two major problems with coloring my mostly brown hair. I’ve considered getting highlights to mask the silver, but I feel like I should just own it and accept it. Although part of me says I should wear it like a badge of honor for what I’ve endured over recent years, the larger part of me simply wants to be more like, “I don’t give a shit.” It’s not like I would be dying my hair because I’m ready for something different or as a form or creative expression; I would be doing it out of some sort of shame or embarrassment which is not a good reason if you ask me. I’m confident in who I am and don’t normally let things like this bother me. The fact that I’m so hung up on this almost bothers me more than the grey hair itself!

The other issue with getting highlights goes back to my low bullshit tolerance. My friend/stylist (yes, I do actually have one hair stylist I go to every 4-6 weeks), explained that because of my hair color, the touch-up process after my initial treatment will be more involved because she can’t just touch up my roots. She’ll actually have to use both bleach and caramely colors to blend in. Ugh. Blech! This sounds like way more hair maintenance than I can tolerate.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. My first choice it to just accept it and get over it, but for whatever reason, I’m stuck. Although there are many parts of my body I don’t appreciate like my enormously tall forehead, my HUGE feet with the longest toes you’ve ever seen on a woman, and my knobby knees for starters, I just accepted these characteristics and don’t really remember being too self-conscious about them. (I’m sure I was at some point, but I don’t remember it consuming me.) Maybe it’s because I knew there was nothing to be done about them, unlike my hair that has a feasible correction.

I’m curious what your thoughts are. What are you self-conscious about? Have you/would you ever correct something? Are you glad you did/didn’t? I promise no judging here… This is how I feel about ME. I don’t care what ya’ll do with yourselves. Furthermore, after explaining this massive hair coloring hang-up, there are certainly a few elective procedures I would consider, but those are hypothetical situations that could start a whole new post.

On the topic of vanity, have you ever seen this? I find it as equally terrifying as the river boat scene in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory!

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I laughed so hard at the whole “Shut up and lay down, you little bastards!” part. My incoming greys lay nicely, minus the one or two pubic hair looking ones with a mind of their own. I just dye my hair purple and pretend I’m thirty. Mother Nature can be a dirty whore…